


this life is over (but i had you)

by lilacbarnes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Agent Carter References, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Character Death, Fix-It, M/M, Marriage, Mention of Mental Illness, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), also time travel is confusing, steve and bucky are destined for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-09 12:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18638344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacbarnes/pseuds/lilacbarnes
Summary: I said if we could go backIf we had time for thatOh would you change anything?AKA an endgame fixit where Steve stays in the past but it’s not Peggy he stays for.





	this life is over (but i had you)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me just start by saying this is all for fun. I honest to god don't understand how the whole fucking time travel thing works so I'm just going with it. Don't nitpick if something in this short doesn't add up, because I bet it won't! I'm a dumbass at the best of times.  
> That goes to say I am not a writer. I'm really doing this for my own enjoyment because Steve shouldn't have gone back in time in the first place, but whatever.
> 
> Have fun, thanks for clicking.

Steve sat in the waiting room of an SSR hospital, his leg bouncing and hands running down his thighs, attempting to wipe off the sweat dampening his palms. He’d returned the Infinity Stones, placing each back at their required time as directed by Bruce. Steve had finished, returning the time stone to Camp Lehigh, when his mind began wandering about the idea of possibly not returning to 2023 immediately. Steve had been waiting for the elevator, disguised in an operative uniform, when a middle-aged Peggy Carter, whose black hair was beginning to be littered with grey hair exited the opened elevator doors. She has been engaged in a hasty conversation with a young Howard Stark, neither of them recognizing Steve, nor even noticing him. Steve froze, turning to look back as he watched them argue all the way down the hall, until they eventually turned into a secure room.

_I have lived a life; my only regret is that you didn’t get to live yours._

Steve wouldn’t deny that the thought of staying in the past, living the life both Peggy and Tony had eluded at. He would be giving up Sam and Bucky, and the family they had created for themselves. He would be giving up the Shield, his Captain America persona and his role as a protector. He’s never been selfish, a flaw that in the past has done harm as well as good. But Steve came out of the ice as Captain America, immediately being thrown back into a life of war, of fighting. Steve ran his thumb across the band of his GPS. He did what he was meant to - return the stones. Now it was time to get back to 2023, be back to them in 5 seconds as same old Steve, ready to fight the next mission.

Steve thought of Bucky, waiting for him in the forest next to Sam. His Bucky that had been through hell and back, who Steve had fought for, became a fugitive for, lost friends over. Steve wishes, more than anything, that he could go back and save Bucky, fall with him rather than helplessly watch him fall. Maybe then they could have survived the war, spent their lives together.

Steve looked back to the device wrapped on his palm and smiled.

He could do exactly that.

**

Steve had gone back to 1946, long enough for his old self to be in the ice. Peggy, he knew, was working in New York with the SSR; he had read her encrypted file that Natasha released to the public during the fall of SHIELD. Steve had been spending the days around the SSR's New York office, disguised by the New York Bell Company, attempting to covertly and unsuspiciously learn Peggy's schedule. Steve hoped that Peggy, considering her connection to both Steve and the Commandos during the war, could somehow muster up the power to form a rescue mission for Bucky.

The first time Steve had seen Peggy, his breath caught in his throat and his body became paralyzed. She had walked out the front doors of the building, and her brown hair had been perfectly curled in loose waves that framed her neck, a deep part brushed towards her right with the other side tucked carefully behind her ear. Her lips were painted with the bright red lipstick Steve had become so familiar with during the war. She had looked professional, wearing a deep blue dress that Steve knew hid multiple gun-bearing holsters. In another life, Steve thought, if he hadn't have gone into the ice, it may have been Peggy. But Steve knew that, even then, in every lifetime it would always, in the end, be Bucky.

**

Steve had been lingering around the SSR's office for close to a week, sitting across the street on a bench reading and rereading the respective day's newspaper. On the fifth day, Steve found himself in a restaurant, standing in front of cubbies that had various types of sandwiches, soups and salads. Steve groaned, and instead opted for a black coffee before sitting down in a booth in the far corner of the dining room. Steve was wearing a long brimmed flat cap in attempt to hide his face, which, he realized, would eventually become ineffective. He set his newspaper down on the table, scanning over the pages he had been reading for the past three hours. Anything to distract himself from the conversation he would eventually need to have with Peggy.

A Peggy, he reminded himself, that was there when Steve crashed his plane into the ocean a mere year ago.

"Afternoon, sir, is there anything I can get you?" Steve looked up and met the blue eyes of a waitress, her Brooklyn accent thick. Steve gave a small smile.

"No, thank you," Steve looked at the name tag pinned to her light blue inform. "Angie, I'm okay." Steve nodded and returned his eyesight to the newspaper he had laid down on the table.

"Have we met?" Angie asked, placing her hand on her hip. "You look real familiar." Steve glanced back up, his heart racing, fearing he had already been recognized.

"No, I don't think so, sorry," Steve replied, praying he had diverged the conversation enough to avoid the possibility of becoming recognized.

"No, no I'm sure I've definitely seen you before," Angie insisted, her eyes squinting as the pen she was holding in her left hand was pointed inquisitively at Steve. Steve grew anxious, though Angie eventually shrugged and left to aid another table. Steve didn't realize he had been holding his breath until he exhaled, his lungs aching and breath heavy.

Steve had distracted himself with the newspaper, occasionally sipping the mediocre coffee that had eventually lost its heat. Steve, after what he can only assume was twenty minutes after the Angie Incident, hadn't heard the bells indicate the restaurant doors opening, nor did he hear Angie excitedly exclaim that her favourite customer had finally come and the familiar laugh that had followed. Steve had only tuned in enough to hear Angie exclaim something incomprehensible about a photo, and suddenly she was shouting at Steve.

Steve had looked up and met brown eyes he had been infatuated with a lifetime ago, and had set down a dime and swiftly left the restaurant before his mind could catch up with his feet. Steve had turned into an alley, stopping in order to control the rapid pace of his heart. He had been watching Peggy go to and from work, attempting to build the courage to approach her in an attempt to have the SSR rescue Bucky, knowing it would be unrealistic and ultimately impossible to save Bucky himself. Finally that opportunity had arose, and Steve ran. Steve was always running from something.

"Steve?" Peggy's voice was soft and familiar, her accent cutting through Steve like a dull blade. It had been years since Steve had heard her voice, but his love for her had slowly faded into appreciation; for her and their brief time they had. Steve turned around to face Peggy, her hair slightly undone as a result of the fast pace she had used to catch up with Steve. Steve smiled, small yet visible.

"Hi, Peg." Peggy had tears in her eyes, her chest rising with each deep inhale she took. "Look, I can explain..."

"Steve, stop. You think I haven't seen you lurking outside my office the past several days?" Peggy interrupted, she had begun blinking frequently, not allowing tears to fall. "I just didn't let myself believe it was you." Steve and Peggy stood in silence, taking in the other. For Peggy, it had only been just under a year since she had last seen Steve, since she had kissed him for the first and last time. But for Steve, it had been an eternity, 70 years in the ice and a decade of the twenty-first century fights.

"It's me," Steve had finally said, his voice no higher than a whisper. Peggy finally let a single tear roll down her cheek.

"But you went under, we searched for you," Peggy replied, her voice breaking.

"Look, Peggy, I can explain everything, but I need you to do me a favour, please." Steve had made the request sound more like a plea, but everything turned into one when it had to do with Bucky. Steve knew that if it ever came down to it, Steve would beg for anything if it meant saving Bucky.

"Of course, anything." Peggy said, her eyes staring through Steve. Steve couldn't help but think she knew what he was thinking, that he had not come for her.

"It's Bucky. He's alive, and I know where he is."

**

So there Steve was, sitting anxiously in a covert hospital waiting for someone to let him see Bucky. Steve had told Peggy about the GPS on his hand, about the Infinity Stones and the life he had created in a world he didn't belong in. She listened through it all, accepting that Steve had come for the love of his life that wasn't her.

"I know, Steve. I knew there was something when you went to Austria," she had said, after Steve's tearful confession that he needs Bucky; that Bucky is, and always has been, his destiny.

So Steve had told her where Bucky was, what was happening to him, and Peggy had passed the information and formulated a rescue mission. In the end it was the Commandos who had taken a one-armed and an unsound Bucky from a HYDRA base in the Soviet Union, tubes injecting an unidentified serum into his bloodstream and a metal arm resting beside him,yet to be installed. Steve had secretly entered the room Bucky had been kept in, and after seeing the machine Peggy identified as an  electromagnetic Memory Suppressing Machine, he had quickly left and vomited, sobbing into the toilet bowl. Steve had read Bucky's HYDRA file, and he knew what they did to him. But it was different seeing it, knowing that Bucky was subject to torture and Steve did nothing.

Steve did nothing.

Steve was engulfed in his thoughts before he noticed Peggy standing above him, a somber look on her face that mirrored Steve's and had never seemed to leave since they found Bucky.

"You can go see him, Steve," Peggy said, sitting down beside him and placing a gentle hand on Steve's, squeezing it lightly. Steve nodded and stood up. He hadn't realized he was crying, the cool breeze of his strides brushing against the flow of tears that rested on Steve's cheeks. He wiped his face on his sleeve, and hastily walked into the room Bucky was being kept.

Bucky was laying on a bed, tubes injected into his remaining arm and a bandage wrapped around the stump that remained on his left. Steve sat to Bucky's right, taking Bucky's hand and interlacing his fingers into Bucky's limp, yet warm fingers.

"Bucky, I swear..." Steve had started, but couldn't bring himself to finish. To formulate any sentence.

So instead he sat there, holding Bucky's hand with the knowledge that Bucky was his, that finally Steve and Bucky could have a life that wasn't reliant on war, on fighting, on violence.

An epilogue to their story that had spanned centuries, where they had lost each other and found each other countless times. _It's you in every timeline_ , Steve thought. _Always_.

—

Bucky woke up five days later, disoriented and unwilling to let anyone touch him. Steve felt sick when he thought about what the HYDRA agents had to do to allow Bucky, the most trusting person he had ever met, to suddenly trust not even himself.

In the end, it was Steve that helped Bucky regain consciousness, restoring him of the memories that HYDRA had tried so hard to get rid of.

"I'm with you till the end of the line, Buck," Steve had said, holding Bucky's head in his hands and staring into Bucky's eyes. They were dull, the light that was there sucked out, but still Bucky's. Still the eyes Steve had looked into countless times, and inevitably the eyes that Steve had fallen in love with.

**

The SSR had retained Steve’s apartment, ensuring it stayed out of Steve’s files in case, at any point, he or anyone else needed a safe house. Howard Stark insisted he furnish it, to both Bucky's and Steve's discontent. In the end, they both declined, as living in an apartment that didn't have a leaky faucet, broken appliances and a couch they had dragged from beside a dumpster would be so foreign the thought seemed almost laughable.

It was a month after Bucky was released when Steve told him the whole story. Thanos, the Infinity Stones, Steve returning them but ultimately deciding to stay in the past.

"Steve, you had a family, you had a life. Why would you give that up?" Bucky asked. Steve sat in silence for what felt like minutes, trying to formulate a response that he had been meaning to say since he was young.

“Buck...” Steve’s voice trailed as he attempted to cohere what he wanted to say; what he’s been meaning to say his whole life. “It’s you, Buck. It’s always been you. I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize that.” Steve stood up straight and kept his hands at his sides, resisting the urges to reach out and stroke Bucky’s hand, his cheek, his hair.

Bucky stayed still, keeping his eyes locked to Steve’s and maintaining steady breaths. If his heart race racing, Steve couldn't tell.

“I know,” Bucky finally said, his face softening as a relieved sigh escaped his lips. “I know, you punk. You’re it for me.” Bucky finally smiled, matching the grin that had grown on Steve’s face. And all of a sudden Bucky was reaching out, putting a hand on Steve’s hip as Steve’s hands went to cradle Bucky’s face. Then their lips were touching, molding together in desperation of too many years past. They both kissed, with the urgency of long-lost lovers, the immediacy of two boys who danced around their love for each other since they knew what love was. It was decades lost, decades found, and decades made up for.

Bucky parted, resting his forehead against Steve’s, both of them breathing heavily onto the other, but neither cared. Steve let out a breathy laugh, and Bucky followed. And for a second, they were two teenagers in Brooklyn, two fools in love, two men who, for once, finally got their ending.

“I love you, Bucky. So much. Always have.” Steve said between breaths, lifting his head off of its resting spot on Bucky’s forehead to look I’m in the eyes, his hands gravitating to rest on either side of Bucky’s hips.

“I love you, Steve. Always will.”

—

“I don’t think I can do this,” Steve said, his voice shaking and breathless. He looked out the window, watching as people lingered aimlessly around the makeshift aisle. Steve and Bucky wanted to invite those closest to them, a “small, intimate, practically illegal ceremony that won’t legally mean anything,” Bucky had said. Peggy and Daniel, as well as Howard practically invited themselves, and Bucky made the extra effort to invite the Commandos, Howard paying to fly them all to New York. Bucky invited his Mom and two sisters and hid his disappointment when his father refused to join. Steve pretended not to notice when Bucky cried after he thought Steve was asleep.

Peggy walked up behind him, placing her left hand on his arm. He could see the glimmer of her wedding band against the sunlight radiating through the window.

“You’re always so dramatic, Steve,” she said, with a hint of either distain or sarcasm in her voice. Steve never could tell them apart. “You’ve been waiting for this for years. You love him. He loves you. So much it’s annoying, if I’m honest,” Peggy said. Steve turned around, her brown eyes glimmering and a smug smile on her face. She was wearing a yellow sundress, her swollen belly resting large and present underneath the floral pattern. Her right hand was resting on her stomach, while her left hand gravitated to hold Steve’s. Steve cried when Peggy told him she was expecting, his heart filling for the happiness Peggy had found with Daniel. He cried even harder when she told him she wanted him to be her son’s godfather.

“Steve, you are going down there, and you are marrying the man you love. If you think you’re running off now, you’re wrong. I’m eight months pregnant but don’t know think I can’t take you in a fight.” Peggy remarked, her eyes staring intensely into Steve’s. Steve had no doubt that, despite a child growing within her and the serum coursing through his own veins, that Peggy could still easily have Steve bleeding on the floor.

“Yeah, okay. You’re right,” Steve finally said, his hand leaving Peggy’s grasp to run down the front of his Tux. He was wearing black slacks that ended at his ankles, with black shoes that Howard had bought him, despite Steve’s pleads. His black suit coat covered his white dress shirt that tied high up against his neck. He opted for a black tie, which rested against his chest. In his pocket were three white daisies that Dugan’s youngest daughter had picked from the garden beside the cabin, which she insisted Steve wear.

“You ready?” Peggy asked. Steve nodded and followed her out of the room and down the stairs, each floorboard creaking. Howard had rented a secluded cabin beside a lake outside of Brooklyn (at least, Steve believed he rented it, Howard may very well have bought it. Steve didn’t dismiss that possibility). Peggy had planned it, down to which chairs they were using and who was sitting where. Steve and Bucky had both decided for a small, intimate ceremony, furthest away from wandering eyes who might have disclosed their relationship to authorities. They knew this wedding wasn’t legally bound, that their relationship wouldn’t be recognized by the state of New York, or by anywhere in the US for that matter, but neither of them cared. Their relationship was a marriage, and the lack of a signed piece of paper didn’t matter to them.

Steve stood at the end of aisle, his eyes looking out towards the lake. It was the middle of June, and the late-spring afternoon sun was high and full, the vast blue sky reflecting onto the water. Steve’s hands were sweating, and his heart was racing. This day had only ever existed in his mind, dreaming of it as a teenager but immediately doing his best to forget it as soon as he woke up. He drew sketches of him and Bucky, both in suits, standing in a church, even though he knew that two men loving each other was a sin, that it was a crime punishable by death. But his Ma, who knew Steve’s feelings before he ever did, insisted that the Church isn’t always right.

“There’s no crime in loving someone, Steven. Don’t you forget that. You go out and love whoever you want, and I will love you all the same,” Sarah had said once, before Steve had even recognized his feelings for Bucky as anything more than platonic. Steve wished his mother was here, sitting in the front row and wiping away tears as Steve and Bucky said their vows. He wished she was there to say a speech, something about how she always knew it would be Steve and Bucky in the end, and how she knew it since sickly 8-year old Steve never stopped talking about the new friend he made. Steve knew, however, that wherever his Ma was, she was smiling, and she was crying, and she was writing a speech.

Steve was fixated on the ripples in the water when he felt a presence at his side.

“You marrying the lake or me, Rogers?” Bucky said, standing on Steve’s right. Steve turned his head, meeting Bucky’s eyes. Steve smiled, scanning his eyes all over Bucky. His black pants were loose, cutting a straight line down to the black shoes Bucky had bought cheap at a street market. He was wearing a black waistcoat and bow tie, opting out of the black suit jacket that, most likely, was lain across a chair inside the cabin. His white shirt was tight, the material outlining the muscles in his arm. His left shirt sleeve was hemmed and tied just below the bottom of the stump of his left arm. His hair was neatly combed back, his face uncovered and bright. Bucky grew a smug grin.

“Always knew I’d end up marrying a blond,” Bucky said, quiet enough for just Steve to hear. Steve smiled and shook his head.

“You’re a jerk, Buck.”

“Punk.”

Steve Grabbed Bucky’s hand as Peggy stood in front of them, officiating the wedding.

“We’re gathered here today to officially recognize the love between Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes, best friends since childhood and inseparable since.” Steve glanced over to Bucky, both wearing wide smiles that radiated happiness.

Peggy had continued, opting out of a traditional religious ceremony (Steve definitely imagined of his Ma turning in her grave at the thought) but rather talked about Steve and Bucky, sharing stories that were written by Bucky’s family and the commandos, with Peggy adding in the occasional quip based on her own personal stories.

“Now, for the vows,” Peggy had said, and Steve’s heart began beating even faster. He’d been writing his vows to Bucky in his head for decades, a century, even. But these feelings, he knew, could never properly be described in words. It was so much more, it extended past words, it was beyond feelings and descriptions, beyond knowledge and beyond time and space itself.

“Buck,” Steve started. “I knew I loved you before I even knew what love was. You came into my life as a savior, my own guardian angel who knew me better than anyone else, who always knew just how to save me, and I knew just how to save you, in return. I ignored it for so many years, Buck. I didn’t let myself admit to myself, let alone love you. But my biggest regret is wasting so many years that could have been ours. So many years the could have been spent loving you, wrapped in your arms. God, Buck. You’re it for me. I’ve spent so many years trying to find out who I am; trying to find my purpose. But I’m not a soldier, I’m not a spy or a martyr, but I’m yours. You are my purpose, and you’re my destiny. I love you, Buck. I love you more than words can describe; I love you more than I ever thought you could love someone. You made me believe in soulmates.” Steve and Bucky were crying, holding hands and pouring love. Steve could have went on for hours, describing every small detail that he adored about Bucky,  everything that made Steve fall in love with Bucky, but the tears were caught in his throat and his hands were shaking, and so he opted for spending the rest of his life showing Bucky how much he meant to Steve.

“Shit, Rogers. I’m supposed to follow that?” Bucky said, wiping tears with a small chuckle. “Well, for the record, I loved you first. Before anyone other than maybe your Ma, before you loved me, it was me who loved you. I knew I loved you before I even met you. I knew I loved you when you were small and fragile and refusing to back down to some school yard bully. All of a sudden there was this ball of light and I knew I had to live in its shadow for the rest of my life. I fell in love with you when you were frail and relentless, when I was sure you’d blow away if a gust of wind caught you the wrong way. I wish I could’ve protected you more, but in hindsight you never needed protection. Steve, you’re the bravest, strongest person I’ve ever met, even before the serum. You saved me, just as much as I saved you. But that’s who we are. We save each other. I’ve nearly lost you so many times, Steve, but I’ve finally found you, and, for the rest of my life, I’m never letting you go. I promise that. You’re my always,” Bucky’s voice broke on the last sentence, finally releasing the tears he had been holding back. Steve, who finally stopped fighting the tears, was crying, allowing himself to cry of sheer happiness he had prevented himself from feeling, but also tears for lost time. Bucky and Steve, in a haste, exchanged rings, promising their lives to each other as Steve slid the gold band around Bucky’s right hand, as Bucky followed suit, promising that, through sickness and health, rich or poor, he will love Steve, something Bucky would do without question nonetheless. Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand, tears in his eyes as they both said, “I do.” I do to the rest of their lives; I do the past and to the present and to the future. I do to the life Steve had been wanting to live since he met the personification of sunlight, with eyes that seemed to absorb light even in the dark.

“By the power vested in me, and by the privacy protection of the SSR,” Peggy smiled, “I now pronounce you husbands!” Steve and Bucky were smiling, and the life both of them had been waiting to live since they were boys causing trouble around the streets of Brooklyn and giving their mothers stress lines.

Bucky cradled Steve’s face, and immediately pressed his lips against Steve’s.  People were clapping, but Steve and Bucky didn’t care. In that moment, they were the only two people in the world, existing for each other.

Peggy got a cake from a bakery Angie insisted upon, and Steve and Bucky danced until the sun became hidden behind the skyline.

They had made love that night, refusing to sleep but rather stay wrapped in each other, talking about their lives while playing with the gold bands on their fingers. Bucky had gotten up and played a record, quiet enough for only them, and made Steve dance around the room.

_Haven’t felt like this, my dear, since can’t remember when_

“This is the first time we’re dancing alone as a married couple, Buck,” Steve whispered into Bucky’s hair, placing a gentle kiss on his temple. Bucky chuckled, reciprocating by kissing Steve’s shoulder.

“Then this is our song, I guess.” Bucky leaned back to look Steve in the eyes, smiling wide enough that crinkles formed around his eyes. “My handsome punk.” Steve kissed Bucky, deep and long, with as much love he could muster.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Steve felt at home, and he knew Bucky felt the same.

—

Steve held the small GPS in his hand, knowing the life that was waiting for him on the other side of it. It felt like another life, one that wasn’t truly his, a ghost that followed him and reminded him of a family he had created himself. He thought of Sam, whose life had finally become quiet before he met Steve. Who found a companion, a friend to fill the gap Riley left in his heart, and Steve found the same. He missed Sam, but Steve found his home. He found the life he was meant to live, with no war and no responsibilities. He was no longer Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He carefully placed the device between his folded up uniform, which was folded in such a way  the star that would sit on his chest rested on top, reminding Steve of his life before this one. Steve cautiously placed it at the back of his drawer, hiding underneath the pile of clothes Bucky had neatly folded and put away. Steve smiled. This was the life he was meant to have. No war, no ice, no hydra. Just Bucky and Brooklyn, and Bucky’s incessant necessity for neatness.

“Steve! C’mere!” Bucky shouted from what Steve believed was the living room of their small, but cozy house. They decided to stay in Brooklyn, partly because it’s all they could afford, but also because Bucky and Steve agreed Brooklyn was home. Neither of them imagined living anywhere else. They had lived in a small, run-down apartment that was still in Steve’s name before the war. It was small and needed countless repairs, but it was cheap and familiar. Steve would live in a box if it meant living with Bucky, which made Bucky groan of the sentimentality when Steve admitted it. But several years after their wedding, Bucky was able to put a down payment on a house a couple of miles away from the apartment, in a better location with trees and a backyard and kids riding their bikes down the street when school was out. The house was owned by Bucky, technically, but Steve paid his part in secret. They both knew the danger of the nature of their relationship getting out, but neither of them cared. Steve, every so often, would tear up at the thought of never being able to have children of his own, but he had Bucky, and that was enough.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted again, from the same location. Steve took his mind out of his thoughts and shut the drawer, putting the GPS out of sight and out of mind. Steve trotted towards the living room, where Bucky was bent over and fiddling with the record player, a wedding gift from Peggy and Daniel.

“What is it, Buck?” Steve asked, shamelessly checking out Bucky’s ass in the meantime. An ass, Steve thought, that was his. He blushed and looked instead to Bucky setting a record onto the turntable.

“We,” Bucky started, pausing to place the needle onto the record. “Are dancing.” Bucky grinned as the sound melodic trumpets filled the space. Steve shook his head, smiling wide as a laugh escaped his lips.

“Really, Buck? Now?” Steve asked, his eyes following Bucky as he approached Steve. Bucky placed his hand in Steve’s, setting one of Steve’s hand on Bucky’s waist and letting go to closely enlace is right hand into Steve’s, then slowly began swaying.

“Yup. My house, my rules, Rogers,” Bucky teased. Steve shook his head and leaned downwards to press his lips to Bucky’s, quick and sweet, the taste of coffee still lingering on Bucky’s tongue.

_Never thought that you would be standing here so close to me..._

Steve and Bucky swayed with the music. Bucky’s head rested gently on Steve’s shoulder, as Steve rested his head against the side of Bucky’s temple.

_So, kiss me once then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again. It’s been a long, long time..._

Steve couldn’t resist the smile of that remained on his face and Bucky led him in slow circles around their living room. Steve had lived in two timelines, in two different centuries. He’d gained a family, lost them, and went to space. But this, thought Steve, this was the life he’d meant to live. Not a soldier but a regular man living a semi-regular life with the man of his dreams.

Bucky lifted his head to meet Steve’s eyes. The morning sunlight was shining through the large bay window, the rays catching Bucky’s eyes, making the blue seem brighter than usual. Bucky leaned forward and placed his lips gently against Steve’s, letting it linger for a moment before pulling away and smiling. Steve grinned in return. He’s never known normal, but if this was it, it’s something he could definitely get used to.

—

Steve was one hundred and three years old when Bucky died. It was cancer, which, despite Zola’s serum that coursed through Bucky’s veins, took him on a Monday night while Steve laid beside him, his fingers interlaced in Bucky’s as Bucky’s head rested against Steve’s chest. That night Steve had not slept, but rather looked at Bucky, taking in the features that had been altered with age. The wrinkles that splashed Bucky’s face, the small strands of grey and black hair that covered Bucky’s head, which started growing back in thin strands when Bucky refused to continue his treatment.

“I’m over a century old, Stevie. This shit’s exhausting,” Bucky has said in a well-humoured way in an attempt to reassure Steve. It didn’t stop Steve from crying in the hospital waiting room, nor did it stop him from insisting on taking care of Bucky all day, every day.

“In sickness and in health, Buck. I made that promise and I intend to keep it,” Steve had said early into Bucky’s treatment, after a particularly rough night that led to Bucky shouting at Steve to leave. But that’s one thing Steve never did.

Steve kept a sturdy gaze on Bucky until he finally heard a small sigh escape Bucky’s lips and felt his chest grow still, his eyes closed and motionless. For a moment he let himself believe Bucky was sleeping.

Steve held Bucky tighter as tears began falling, rolling down his face and landing on the pillow case beneath him. Steve had lost Bucky more times than he cared to count; losing him became a game he was destined to play, but finally, Steve had lost Bucky in a way no amount of fighting could ever reverse.

Steve knew the GPS he kept hidden in his drawer would take him to Bucky in his younger, war-drained self. The Bucky Steve fought for what feels like a lifetime ago. But it was not the Bucky Steve had married, bought a house with and had watched grow old. He was not his husband. Steve sat there for what seemed like forever, holding his husband as they laid in their bed. And in that moment, Steve wished for his heartbeat to match the absent rhythm of Bucky’s.

—

Steve sat on a wooden bench; his eyesight engulfed by lake and treed lakeshores. He couldn’t help but think that Bucky would’ve loved it. They would’ve come here, when they were younger and so desperately in love, and make love on the grass and wrestle in the water, only to settle the match with a tender kiss and an embrace. It reminded Steve of his wedding, a warm June day that was undoubtedly the happiest day of Steve’s life, with Bucky’s hair combed back and his bowtie hanging untied around his neck as he danced aimlessly around the impromptu grass dance floor with his youngest sister. But Bucky, undoubtedly, the Bucky who had known so much war and pain, was standing only a few feet away from him, his long hair tucked behind his ears and hanging loosely behind his head. His Winter Soldier Bucky, who saw Steve’s younger self only mere seconds prior. Steve couldn’t bring himself to turn around, seeing Bucky as young, alive, stung the wound that was still open and painful, despite the two years that have passed since the death of his husband.

Beside him, in a leather case Bucky had bought him some forty years prior, was Steve’s shield, which he kept behind the pile of boxes that he had stacked in his closet. He had gone decades without wearing the uniform, without the thought of even putting in on. His body, no longer young and agile, and his hair grey, was beyond the ability to reconstruct the identity he had created for himself in the 21st century.

Behind him, the sound of leaves beneath sturdy steps left Steve anxious and, as much as he hated to admit it, he hoped it was Sam.

“Cap?,” Sam asked. Steve sighed in relief. He forgot how much he missed Sam’s voice, how much he missed Sam’s company. He wanted nothing more than to know what was running through Sam’s mind.

“Hi, Sam,” Steve replied, as nonchalantly as possible. Sam smiled.

“So, did something go wrong? Or did something go right?”

“Well,” Steve started, and almost instantly, every memory of his life with Bucky came flooding back, a montage of the best parts of his life flashing through his mind. “After I put the stones back I thought, maybe I’ll try some of that life tony was telling me to get.”

“And how did that work out for you?”

Steve smiled. “It was beautiful”

“I’m happy for you, truly. Only thing bumming is the fact I have to live in a world without Captain America,” Sam said, his sincerity clear. Steve missed Sam’s kindness, the kindness that radiated from him wherever he went, and his loyal demeanour. Steve hoped that, in another life, he was half the man Sam was.

“Oh, that reminds me.” Steve reached down and unzipped the bag, unveiling the shield that had been neglected and unused since its last usage some decades ago when Steve wanted nothing more than to rid himself of the Stones that had controlled his life for the better part of a decade. Steve looked up at Sam, who was looking between him and the shield. “Try it on,” Steve insisted. Sam looked at Steve, his eyebrows furrowed, before picking up the shield and placing it in his grasp and lacing his arm into its straps. “How does it feel?”

“Like it’s someone else’s,” Sam finally said, looking up from the shield to look at Steve. Steve smiled and shook his head.

“It isn’t.” Sam grinned, his humble disposition causing Steve to feel a warmth inside him that had been absent for far too long.

“Thank you, I’ll do my best,” Sam said. Steve never thought otherwise. Sam, whose heart was bigger than that of anyone else he’s met, wanted nothing more than to help others. Steve just wished he’d had done it sooner. Steve reached out his hand, waiting for Sam to grasp in return.

“That’s why it’s yours,” Steve said, covering Sam’s hand in his own. Steve noticed as Sam glanced at the small, gold band on Steve’s left hand.

“You wanna tell me about her?” Sam asked, a smug grin appearing on his face as he waited for an answer. Steve thought for a moment, considering whether or not he wanted to tell the story that sat on the tip of his tongue, waiting for the opportunity to become a dramatic love story. But this story was his, a part of him that was not for history books or museum exhibitions.

“No. No, I don’t think I will tell you about him,” Steve finally said, allowing only the “him” to leave Sam’s mind to curiously construct a story of his own.

Steve glanced out at the lake, his mind on Bucky and the life they finally spent together, quietly, when they were young and the war was left behind them, a future wide and unscripted in front of them. He thought of them dancing the night of their wedding and the first day in their house, the poetic sound of Kitty Kallen pulsing from the record. Steve let a tear slide down his cheek and whispered into the air, hoping that wherever Bucky was, he could hear.

“I’m with you till the end of the line, Buck.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> yeehaw thanks for sticking through until the end! hope you got some enjoyment from it :)  
> Also, to clear up why i wrote this:  
> I won’t forgive the writers for ending steve’s arc by him staying in the past. it’s very unlike steve’s character and it’s something steve wouldn’t really do, but this way he gets to live a long, normal life with bucky.  
> What annoys me most is that steve fought so hard for so long to get bucky back, and he just threw it all away for a woman he knew and kissed once. but the ending left a lot open for bucky, and even though he doesn’t have steve he’s not alone. he has sam, at the very least, which i’m hoping will become a healthy and caring friendship.  
> so, in my little fantasy, steve gets to live and spend his life with bucky, even though he made the stupid decision to stay in the past in the first place.   
> Fic title from Til Death by Barcelona  
> you can find me on tumblr @maria-rmbeau. Also shout out to my Darling @hozierlesbian for being my beta reader! Love you long time.


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